Echos of a Genius | Spencer Reid

Who I Am

Stephie

The crisp autumn air greeted me as I stepped out of the cabin, a slight chill running up my spine as I tugged my sweater closer. It had been almost two months since I left the BAU, two months since I'd walked away from the only thing I'd ever known.

I inhaled deeply, the smell of pine and earth filling my senses, grounding me. The small cabin, I had the keys to, in the woods was miles away from anything that reminded me of my old life—no endless case files, no phone calls at odd hours, no bodies to haunt my dreams. Just peace. Quiet. And space. Space to breathe, space to heal. I see why Gideon loved this place so much.

I had spent the first few weeks trying to shed the weight of everything that had been crushing me. I took long walks in the woods, got lost in books, and let myself cry when I needed to. At first, it felt like I was unraveling, like every part of me was fraying at the edges. The faces of victims, the guilt, the constant anxiety—it all followed me here at first, refusing to let go.

But slowly, day by day, the tightness in my chest began to loosen. The nightmares became less frequent, and I found myself laughing again, smiling at the simplest things—like the way the sunlight filtered through the trees or the warmth of the coffee in my hands on a cold morning.

Today, I decided to go for a hike to the lake nearby, something I'd been doing more frequently as my body and mind started to feel lighter. I laced up my boots, grabbed my water bottle, and stepped into the quiet embrace of the forest. There was something comforting about the rhythmic crunch of leaves underfoot, the way the forest seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for something to unfold.

As I reached the lake, the water calm and still, I sat on a large rock, staring out at the mirror-like surface. This was my favorite spot—isolated and untouched, with only the sounds of nature to accompany me. Here, I could think clearly, without the clutter of noise and demands.

I hadn't made any concrete decisions yet, though the looming question had been with me since the moment I left D.C.: *Would I go back?*

Part of me missed the team—Spencer, Emily, Derek, JJ, Penelope, Rossi. They were more than just colleagues; they were family. They had been there for me through the hardest times, had pulled me out of dark places I didn't think I could escape. I missed the camaraderie, the sense of purpose that came with the job. But I didn't miss the weight of it. I didn't miss the sleepless nights, the way each new case seemed to chip away at a part of me I didn't know how to protect.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the lake, I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift. I thought about the girl in the last case—the one whose face had haunted me for so long. The reason I had felt like I couldn't keep going. Her face still flickered in my mind from time to time, but it no longer held the same grip on me. I had learned to let go. To accept that not every case would end the way I wanted it to, and that I couldn't carry the weight of every victim's fate on my shoulders.

For the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of peace.

Two months ago, I had been certain that leaving the BAU was the only way to save myself. But now... now I wasn't sure. I had found pieces of myself in this quiet life, pieces I thought had been lost forever. But there were other parts of me—the fighter, the protector, the profiler—that still lingered just beneath the surface. I couldn't ignore them.

As I watched the sunset paint the sky in shades of pink and orange, I realized something important: I didn't have to be the same person I was before. I didn't have to go back to the BAU as the same Stephie who had left. If I returned, I could set boundaries. I could do things differently. And if I didn't? That would be okay too.